


The Demon on his Shoulder

by Cecret



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Cheleanor, F/M, Friendship, Hellstrop, Platonic Soulmates, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecret/pseuds/Cecret
Summary: “Oh, we should pop open some champagne! Call those magic ants!”What could've happened if Chidi didn't visit the office after the luau. (Set in "Chillaxing").
Relationships: Michael (The Good Place) & Eleanor Shellstrop, Michael (The Good Place)/Eleanor Shellstrop
Comments: 20
Kudos: 34





	The Demon on his Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> For story (and consent) purposes, Michael can get drunk drinking human alcohol (which I think is never straight up denied in the show either, just implied).  
> I don’t drink, so the measurements or the effects might not be 100% accurate.

It was not a novelty to be impressed by Eleanor Shellstrop, and much less to find oneself surprised by the unpredictability of her behavior. It was almost _too_ easy for Michael to let himself be carried away by her actions, to not question her decisions and simply follow her around, given that the foundation of their friendship could basically be defined by that movement: she acted, he observed (too often in awe) and only _then_ , took action.

He always watched her as she tested the waters before her, only to have her tell him to go find himself his own forking pond.

But she never stopped helping him. Eleanor was his guide. She showed him the way and made sure he stayed in the right path. It seemed simpler to be _ethical_ by her side, because she did not tell him what to do, but one glance in her direction deemed enough for him to sort of _know it_. If she wasn’t happy, he was most likely in the wrong, and had to figure out how to fix it.

The ‘little voice’ in his head had an owner, and that was her.

Michael saw himself in her, the intriguing reflection of who he _was_ and who he _could be_ packed in five feet stood in front of him, always taking his hand and walking two steps ahead. The moment he stopped being something akin to her enemy, she became his leader, and it had never been the other way around.

Of course, Eleanor had her own moral compass, as well.

The problem was… he was not _there_ at the moment. And Michael’s current mirror was not offering any clues on how to be _good_ but rather reminding him of some of his own older, not-one-hundred-percent-ethical ways.

He would be lying if he said he did not enjoy the sight of a calculating Eleanor, a creature capable of the most clever kind of wickedness, someone so intelligent and bright, so resourceful and quick, that there did not seem to be a task she could not succeed in or an obstacle she would be unable to overcome. If he had asked her to help him torture other humans instead of her, he probably wouldn’t have lost his mind (in more ways than one) over her antics.

And now, with an amnesiac Chidi as one of their subjects, the new very _human_ Architect of their ―no longer _his_ ― neighborhood was in need of someone to tell her to listen to her own ‘little voice’, one that seemed a bit _too_ buried in the back of her head as she tried to, quite literally, torture her own ex-boyfriend.

The thing was… Michael’s moral compass could go a bit _lacking_ when Eleanor’s did, too. So the best he could promise himself was to _try_.

“Well, this was a huge success!”

No. It wasn’t. 

It had been, at one point, but she was taking it too far and he doubted that was out of a mere miscalculation. She was actively enjoying this, which left Michael kind of lost as to how to proceed, since it was not supposed to go this way: a demon must _stop_ relishing in their actions, not take pleasure out of them, much less when one is supposed to actually prove people can improve.

“Chidi is an absolute mess.”

“Oh, we should pop open some champagne! Call those magic ants!”

He wouldn’t do _that!_

No. What he _had_ to do was talk to her, tell her to relax and ask her _why_ she was actually doing this.

“He’s clearly being tested like never before.”

“Yeah. And now, we need to ramp up the pressure.”

She came to stand in front of him, pointing out her index finger with tremendous determination. It seemed oddly accurate to have her at face level at this moment, since she was most certainly channeling some pretty _demonic_ energies, and he had never felt so similar to her as now. Being seated on top of the desk ―the chair did not feel _his_ anymore― took a full foot out of his frame and he could only stare at her, a bit frightened and he was not sure of _what_ , but also amazed, and he _did_ know by whom.

To say he was at the mercy of her will was probably an overstatement. But to say he was not was a bit far from the truth.

“Eleanor, he told an outright lie! We don’t want him so freaked out that he can’t help anyone else.” Her smile faltered and Michael made out a window to get her to listen. “I think we did enough for today.”

“No way, dude! We can’t stop now! We have to push him to the edge! We have to knead his fragile psyche until he’s hyperventilating and losing his mind.”

Her eyes narrowed with coldness and widened with excitement. Honestly… it was quite the show. 

But Michael knew he had to stop it.

He raised a palm in her direction to draw her attention, but she began to pace around the room, waving her arms in the air and frantically plotting her next move.

“I should ask him if he wants us to make him a motorcycle route, and _really_ highlight the fact that no one here has ever asked for it. But this is the Good Place, so anyone can do whatever they want, right? Oh- Oh- Oh, I should go to his place now and have him make a whole bunch of choices, like a desert or a city scenario, if he wants straight roads or something full of curves and stuff. I also gotta ask him _why_ he likes Pamela Anderson. Holy fork, he’s going to lose his mind trying to answer that!”

The door suddenly opened and both let out a little jump, their heads abruptly turning to see who had come into the office. Eleanor audibly exhaled when she saw a tall column of ants climbing on top of each other to reach the knob and twist it, while others moved a bottle of champagne and two glasses in her direction.

She turned to look at him, her smile scrunching up her nose. “Aww, you _did_ call them!”

No, he didn’t. So how the There did she do that?!

“Thanks, bud! I mean, imagine if that had been Chidi. We would have a _lot_ of explaining to do if he’d overheard any of this.”

He picked up what Eleanor had summoned (not that he would ever tell her that) and thanked the ants before sending them away. Settling back down on the desk, he placed the flutes next to him and showed her the bottle.

“We’ll _only_ open this if you promise me you’ll go easier on Chidi tomorrow. He could end up finding out he’s not precisely in the Good Place if you don’t. It could endanger the entire experiment.”

“Oh please, Chidi would never realize he’s not in the Good Place! _Mister Ethics_ is one hundred percent sure he always does the right thing, that he’s so _perfect_ and knows everything about _morals_ … He wouldn’t realize he was supposed to end up in Hell even if I stood in town square and let out an evil laugh.”

Michael tried to shove that mental image to the very back of his brain and simply watched as she snatched the bottle from his hands.

“You knowing everything about me can be a little weird, but it has its perks... Like you bringing me my favorite brand of champagne.”

He smiled and didn’t say anything. Eleanor didn’t _really_ need to know her abilities seemed to exceed those of an average human. But her words lingered: something was wrong. She had barely tried to mask the resentment in her voice and there was a note of sarcasm on the way she spoke about Chidi.

“Hey, is there anything you want to talk about? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine! I’m really enjoying this Architect role, to be honest…”

“Yes, I noticed.”

She stretched out an arm to grab one of the glasses, but he stopped her, putting out his hand in her way. “Hang in there. Promise first.”

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Fine… But only so he won’t find out. Or so _Simone_ won’t find out either, since she’s also so perfect and so smart.”

_She’s not fine…_

“Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t know if drinking would be the right move right now.”

“Oh, c’mon! Just one glass! We’re working so hard, we need to relax. This is almost hitting the month mark and we’re already making progress. I say that calls for a celebration.”

“Then let’s go bowling or watch a movie. Or maybe, we could talk…”

“Talk about what?”

“Well, for starters, about how you might be feeling, if there’s anything you want to share... Some of your frustrations, some things that could be bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me... I’m fine! Let’s relax a little, let’s do some _chillaxing_ of our own! Please...”

He was ready to say ‘no’ to her, but Eleanor rarely said ‘Please’ and that made denying her anything even harder than it already was, especially when she was smiling at him like that. 

After a moment of hesitation, he slowly began to nod. “Fine… But only one glass!”

“Okay, buzzkill.”

“And I won’t make a show out of popping it.”

“Like you could resist doing such a _human_ thing. C’mon, spray that bench.”

After tearing the foil apart and unsecuring the cage, he popped the cork, making it land straight in the garbage can by the corner of the office and snapping the foam away before it reached the floor.

“I can’t decide if you were showing off or being boring with that.”

He smiled at her and began to pour the champagne into the two glasses.

She took the flute he was offering her and frowned, handing it back to him. “Strike two, dude. This is barely half a glass.” He rolled his eyes and filled it to the top. “That’s better. Be careful with being such a buzzkill or I might hire another Assistant.”

“I would say you need me to do this, but I’m not entirely sure that’s true.”

Eleanor cleared her throat and raised her glass. “A toast, to the best and sexiest saviors of the universe.”

Michael wasn’t precisely one to refuse a compliment, so he clinked their glasses together and drank up.

He would never tell another demon he enjoyed the taste of human drinks better than the ones fabricated in the Bad Place. Pig urine did not precisely satisfy his pallet, and there was something particularly fun about the way carbonated drinks felt on his tongue.

She seemed to relax after a little while, and at least she was not constantly trying to come up with new ways to make Chidi miserable, so maybe a bit of distraction had not been that bad of a plan. But soon a glass turned into two and two turned into three. When she aimed for the second one, he put up a bit of a fight, but he did actually fancy one more drink after having his first. And then it was him who poured them the third one, knowing he would have to deal with her teasing for taking back his ‘one glass’ buzzkill-rule.

Because, honestly, he liked drinking. It made him more relaxed. Braver, more confident, less indecisive and simply _fun_. And Eleanor was right, they were working very hard, and they deserved a break. 

Maybe they should give Chidi a glass or two of champagne and see if he became a better person.

They spent that part of the evening remembering old times, laughing at old reboots and memories of Eleanor’s life. She palmed his chest every time she laughed and dropped her head on his shoulder whenever she recalled something embarrassing. 

He liked it when she touched him.

She shook the almost empty bottle in her hand and asked him if they should get another one, a question he answered saying ‘no’ perhaps too many times, without a lot of space ―or clarity― between each word.

And after a moment of silence he spent deep in thought, he glanced around the room, frowning.

“I might be bad…”

“Whaaat?” Eleanor let out a dramatic gasp. “Why would you say that? You’re not bad, you’re the hairy guy from _Monsters, Inc._ ”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Two hands rose in the space between them, her right index finger tracing the ones on her left hand as she numbered the points that made up her argument. “One: you’re super tall. You’re a very, very tall total softie around your humans. And especially around me, because I know I’m your favorite-”

“Because of your humility, in case you were wondering.”

She giggled and looked down at her own hands, slightly shaking her middle finger when she touched it. “Two: now you know laughter is better than screams. Well, I guess it depends on the type of scream.” The snort she let out was the only clue that let him know it was a joke he took a second too long to understand. “But you know I mean torture…” 

Her hand twirled around the air before settling down on her ring finger. “Three! You’re changing the afterlife factory.”

He frowned, glance a bit spacey already. “You mean system.”

“It’s a metaphor, dummy. Don’t be such a... dummy.” She curled her fingers into a fist, leaving only her pinky on sight, and fixed her eyes on his before poking his nose with it. “And four… you’re literally a cat.”

“You’re using ‘literally’ wrong.”

Her index finger pressed against his lips. “And _you_ are being so annoying!” She took a second to study him, lowering her voice to a tone that made it seem as if she was speaking more to herself than to him. “I wonder what can I do to stop you from being annoying…”

Eleanor never withdrew her finger, so he answered in a muffled voice. “Still… I’m _bad._ ”

Her head tilted, one brow raised, as she inspected his features, visibly intrigued at the confession. She used her thumb to lift his face and meet his eyes.

“Why?”

The scene painted in the office had Eleanor basically pointing a rather lazy finger gun at Michael, and there was actually some truth to the picture.

This woman would be the death of him.

The Michael suit was only one of a few things he was hiding from her, and there was no way he could tell her that. Eleanor would never look at him in the same way if she thought there was an even slight possibility that he was actually Vicky, so no amount of alcohol could put that secret at risk.

Other things, however...

“I shouldn’t tell you. Because it’s about you.”

She chuckled, softly lowering her hand without breaking contact with his lip, lightly wetting the tip of her index finger in the process.

“What is it?”

He shook his head, still holding her gaze. “Nope. It’s bad.”

“Tell me.” She raised her chin and looked down at him, playing the Boss she had grown quite accustomed to be in the past few weeks. “Tell me, Michael. That’s an order from your Architect.”

A smirk escaped them both when she finished speaking, shedding light on the game they could not keep pretending they weren't playing. He might have not shared her enthusiasm for Sam the Eagle, but he certainly understood what he _represented_.

This arrangement was particularly nice. It was fun to tease her about her height —more like her lack of it— and he enjoyed making himself useful handing out things that were out of her reach, but there was something strangely pleasant, and pleasantly balanced, in having Eleanor standing in front of the desk, almost cornering _him_ against it. He could stare at her for as long as he wished, without running the risk of straining his neck, and it offered a more precise visual of their relationship.

The answer, a glimmer of all the truths he once swore would never tell her, slipped out of his lips slowly, probing the palpable tension in the air. Captivating, charged, full of unspoken words and unfinished business, it made his chest rise and fall with the heaviness of a rescued drowning man. If he raised one hand to test it, he risked himself to make the mistake of touching _her_ , instead, a luxury out of his realm of possibilities.

“I like it… when you act like a demon.”

All her teeth were exposed in a wide grin, sharp with the hint of mischief that matched the glint in her eyes, and completely _bright_ . Everything about Eleanor was bright and almost dazzling, but the most fascinating part about that was the tint of darkness that came with it, that did not balance the light as much as it made her stand out _even more_. 

But maybe that was just because Michael could barely see anyone but her.

Her eyes were captured by that contaminated brightness now, iris vibrantly colored and as beautiful as ever, but pupils dark and alluring, an abyss he could see himself getting lost in.

“You do?”

He tried and failed to conceal a smile at the way her voice dropped in tone and volume, so velvety it seemed to caress the thin hairs on his arms; but then managed to adopt a serious expression (at least, the most serious one his current state allowed him, which was probably a bit ridiculous), barely selling the act that he had any composure left.

“Shouldn’t. Because it’s bad. And I’m good now.”

“It’s not bad.” Either her head was becoming bigger, somehow, or she was moving closer. Still, Eleanor had such a pretty face it was worth watching. And especially, she had such a pretty smile… “It’s- Well, it might be a little bad. But it’s a fun kind of bad.” Her hand reached out to him again to play with the collar of his shirt, a fabric so soft and cool it tickled the skin of his clavicle. “And I gotta say, I get it… Your evil self was really hot, too.”

“That's not what I said.”

“Ohh, but you were thinking about it…”

He felt the heat rush to his face, surely coloring it. _Busted._

“I mean, you’re hot _now_ , too. But when you got mad at me? Fork, that was so sexy!” Her fingers lowered to stroke his chest and then rose to trace the line of his jaw. “You got in my face all the time… You had this deep, growly voice… Your eyes got so dark. Once I thought you were about to legit, straight up _bite_ me. Not that I would complain…”

His hands felt paralyzed by his sides. She was moving hers around his torso, arms and face, and he couldn’t do anything but take it in, savor the words coming out of her lips and the graze of her fingers against him. Oh, but he wanted to touch her, to feel the fabric of her hawaiian jumpsuit and maybe sneakingly steal the lightest brush of her skin.

What if he reached out and-?

The smell of a tropical fruit on her hair made its way to his nose when she leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“You know? If you had shown me some of _our_ old memories on Earth, I would’ve jumped your bones right in that library…”

All air abandoned his lungs at that.

There was no way this was real. This moment seemed too fabricated by a cruel entity playing with Michael’s imagination to be a product of the Janet-built reality of their small neighborhood.

Was he ―perhaps too vividly― dreaming?

If he was, he would pray on Upper Management and every deity that did not actually exist to never wake up.

It wasn’t much later that Eleanor pulled back and grabbed the collar of his shirt with her two hands, brushing their noses together. Dreams could not fabricate breaths, and the one meeting his was definitely _hers_.

“C’mon, Michael… Let’s take a break. Let’s be a little bad together. After all, in the Good Place, everyone can do whatever they want, right?”

“We’re not in the-”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

She moved her lips against his and Michael gasped into her mouth. This could not even be possible! So many years hiding his true feelings, so many centuries harboring secret desires, to have an evening of matching outfits and a bottle of champagne end up like _this._ After the second it took him to acknowledge what was actually happening, he kissed her back cupping her face with his hands; his thumbs brushed her cheeks and his fingers curled around the curve on the back of her neck.

Her mouth tasted like alcohol, strawberry lipgloss and _her_ , what he now knew to be the taste of Eleanor Shellstrop, one he never thought he would get the chance to feel. Her skin and hair felt incredibly soft under his fingers, as he buried himself in those blonde locks he had spent so much time simply admiring. The kiss was so slow and so passionate he didn’t let a second go by without seizing it, not taking for granted anything of the way her tongue felt against his or her teeth nibbled on his lips.

_(Hey, Mike?)_

He sucked on her bottom lip before pulling back to drop light kisses under her jaw. “A part of me wanted to team up with you the first time you beat me. You’re so smart, so intelligent… So beautiful.”

She let out a delighted hum. “We're quite the duo, huh?” He smirked against her collarbone at the breathy tone her voice had taken. “Hey, Michael, is that door locked?”

In the shortest possible instant, he let go of her to wave a hand around the entrance of the office.

“It is now.”

Eleanor searched his face to kiss him again, now with the urgency and the rush of three hundred years barely holding back, always nearly over the edge, not keeping their hands off each other, but never more ―and never less― than that.

_(Michael!)_

He had never felt as grateful for the length of his arms or the size of his hands. This position let him trace her entire frame, build a map of the softest areas of her body and catch a glimpse of her most sensitive spots.

_(What about the whole ‘she’s not fine’ thing we were thinking about a while ago?)_

She needed to take a break, she needed to stop thinking about Chidi, and he was helping her do just that.

From the back of her neck, his fingers stroked down her arms, crawling back up the soft tissue of their undersides, tickling her wrists, the crook of her elbows and making her giggle when he reached her triceps.

_What she actually needs is support!_

His palms widened to cover her shoulder blades and lowered to trace her spine, feeling the curves, bumps and hollows all over it, closing around her waist and daring to ghost the outline of her hips before settling on the small of her back and pulling her closer.

Done. He was supporting her. In the most literal sense of the word.

_Are you forking kidding me right now?_

If he could reach her legs, if he could repeat the route of her body kissing every inch of her skin, then she would probably know it all.

He shouldn’t tell her, he could _not_ tell her, not when she didn’t feel the same way. But this was a way of communicating it. Somehow, he had managed to convey his feelings with the slowest, most carefully crafted sense of need, one that screamed to the four winds he would never, ever be able to leave her. Saying Chidi was positively insane for leaving her was unfair, but he could still let her know, let her _feel_ how worthy of affection she really was.

And it seemed to be working, because she was basking in his ministrations, lazily roaming her hands around his body with an even lazier smile on her face.

_Alcohol really turns you into an idiot._

It was not the alcohol, it was her. The wonders that made up Eleanor Shellstrop could turn him stupid and put him entirely at her feet.

 _(It_ is _the alcohol, you goon…)_

He dragged teeth and tongue through the length of her neck, tracing muscle and chasing her quickening pulse, and she _moaned._ How could he possibly put an end to this if not stopping let him hear that? The sound drove him insane, so he repeated the movement on the other side and topped it with a suck at the base of her throat, which granted him a pull on his hair. The way she pronounced his name was all air and no vowels, pure energy released out of her vocal cords; but most of all, it was _his_. Against practically every odd, _he_ was the one doing this to her, and hearing her say it seemed out of a dream.

_This is not right._

It sure felt right! Damn it, it felt so right… so good! This was exactly what she deserved to feel: the warmth, the company, every ounce of pleasure and all of his deep and undonditional-

_It’s not ethical!_

She grabbed his hands and placed them back on her hips. 

Oh, fork ethics! 

Almost out of reflex, he pulled her even closer and slid himself to the very edge of the desk, not so much sitting as oddly leaning against it. Eleanor moved between his legs and pressed their bodies together, the feeling of her presence overwhelming him. He had never wanted someone so bad, had never felt the desire to give her everything she could possibly want with this amount of desperation, one that was at the very border of submission. A low chuckle left her and the vibration made its way into their kiss, tingling in his lips.

“I take it back… You’re not always a big softie around your humans.”

_You’re taking this too far, Mikey._

He felt the weight of her palm travel down his chest and pass through his abdomen before she searched for the button of his pants.

_She’s in pain and you’re taking advantage of that!_

“Wait!” 

He wasn’t sure what happened first: if he spoke, broke the kiss or grabbed her hand with his own to stop her. 

“No. No, just wait...”

They were both panting when he gently pushed her away and adjusted himself back to a seating position.

_Fork!_

_Stupid little voice. Stupid ethics…_

_Stupid alcohol and stupid skin suit._

_Fork, I’m so stupid!_

He shook his head and looked up at her. “What are we doing?”

“I trust you’ve read enough files to understand what ‘taking clothes off’ means, dude. But I’m keeping this flowery thing on you, I like it.”

“No, Eleanor. I meant _what_ are we doing here?”

“I don’t know. We’re tipsy, we’re hot, we’re basically Gods in this place... Like, if you ask me, it was only a matter of time. After three hundred years, it kinda had to happen at some point.”

She shrugged and tried to move closer again, but he firmly placed his hands on her forearms to keep her away, lightly brushing his fingers against them to not seem too harsh.

“We’re _drunk_. And we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah! The ‘shouldn’t’ part is what makes it even better.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, still smiling. “You’ve been wanting to do that for a while, huh?”

“No! I- The thought had _never_ crossed my mind. Our kind doesn’t find interest in these mundane human activities. They’re pointless and- and-”

The line between wanting to hide his feelings from her and not dooming himself to her world-class bullshirt detector was harder to walk when he had alcohol in his system. He tried to say it was disgusting, but there was no way he could sell an act such as that one.

“Gross?” She snorted. “You seemed pretty into it.”

“I guess it wasn’t as bad as I imagined. It was an interesting experiment, but that’s enough.”

Still teasing him, she pointed an accusatory finger at his face, stretching out the words in an almost musical voice. “You’re lying to me. I can always tell when you’re lying, especially now that you kinda suck at it. C’mooon, you want this! There’s clearly a spark here, man… And it’s been here for a while, so I say we stop worrying so much and keep having fun.”

She leaned in again and Michael had to stop himself from even considering her words. “Eleanor- Eleanor- Please, stop kissing me.”

(Well, that was a sentence he never thought he would hear himself say).

“Don’t you want me?”

The way she looked down at her own words broke a part of his essence in half, so he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yes.” He sighed, nodding, and realized his tone was maybe a bit _too_ urgent, but it was not an easy task to keep himself together right now. “I do. But you don’t want me.”

“I do…” She moved closer, closing her arms around his neck and leaning in to drop kisses below his ear. “I really, really do.”

A grunt escaped him and he had to fight hard not to give in, but was incapable of pushing her away this time, still smiling from the thought that Eleanor, at least, desired him, which was much more than he could have possibly expected. “Okay... You might want me, but- but you don’t love me.”

She froze, her breathing still hitting his clavicle.

It pained him to say the words out loud, a truth he had always known, but had managed to keep to himself, shoving his hurt deep inside, in some remote section of his brain, and joyfully witnessing her be happy with somebody else.

It was harder to be glad for that since _he_ was gone.

He swallowed the tension building inside his throat and looked down. “You love Chidi.”

She pulled back and looked away from him, crossing her arms. “Yeah, well, Chidi left. He erased his memories to avoid seeing his ex, so…”

“He erased his memories so he wouldn’t compromise the experiment and, with it, humanity’s fate. You know Simone would notice if he lied to her.”

“It’s easier to say that when he’s not your boyfriend.”

His fingers held her chin to make her look up. “Hey… I meant what I said the other week. You’re the one who made the bigger sacrifice. You’re the one who let him go, you’re the one who ended up in charge of this… Our fearless, brave and wonderful Team Leader. You’re quite the hero.”

She leaned into his touch when he stroked her cheek. “ _We’_ re in charge of this, bud. We’re the Heavenly duo.”

“The least likely Heavenly duo of the universe.”

Eleanor let out a vague smile and walked a couple of steps backwards, her posture suddenly shrinking and her aura dimming as she glanced around the office with sad eyes.

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

She looked at him for a single second, pupils still bright but now with tears, and raised a dismissive shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. And you haven’t been, not today.”

“Well, what do you want me to say, man?! That I’m happy seeing Chidi with Simone? That I’m forking thrilled with him blissfully walking through Paradise while we work our ashes off for the fate of humanity? His fate included! That I’m fine with him leaving me?”

Her voice broke and he stood up from the desk to wrap his arms around her.

“No… I want you to know it’s okay for you to feel whatever it is you need to feel right now. I want you to tell me that you’re angry if you’re feeling angry, or that you’re sad if you’re feeling sad. So, what are you feeling?”

He ran a hand through her hair when he heard her sniffing into his shirt. 

“I feel… like he abandoned me. I feel so alone... so forking sad because I miss him. But I’m also angry. And I shouldn’t be angry because he sacrificed his literal self for us, but I am. You can’t tell me that’s okay.”

“It is… You have the right to feel as sad and as angry as you want to.” He tightened his embrace around her and dropped his chin on the top of his head. “What you don’t have the right to say is that you’re alone. Because you know that’s a lie, and lying is not ethical. Maybe none of us can take Chidi’s place in your heart…” It took an insane amount of effort to let his voice go unaffected by his words, but he needed to tell her everything she needed to hear, all the truths she had to be reminded of. “But you have four friends who care about you and who’ll always be by your side, to support you in whatever you might need. And to nag you when you say stupid things like ‘I feel alone’.”

Eleanor seemed to nestle on his chest, to guard herself in his arms, and he had never felt so purposeful, so attached to his skin suit as at this point in time.

“You’re right, buddy. As usual. Truth is I don’t know where I’d be without you. Without any of you, but especially without you, my demon buddy.”

“I know you’re going to be okay pretty soon. You’re the strongest being I’ve ever met. But you have the right to _not_ feel okay sometimes, and you have the right to not feel strong, as long as you know you can always come to me and tell me about it, got it? I guess this… thing that just happened was your way of saying it, and I apologize for taking a little too long to see that.”

Her hands slid through his middle when she pulled back a little. “What do you mean?”

“You know… why else would you kiss me?”

She released him and scratched the back of her neck. “Because… you said I was hot. Or more like implied it. And then I said you were hot. And people want to kiss people they find hot.”

“Is that it?”

Her shoulder rose again, in that same dismissive manner, and she began to fidget with one of the plants they had by the window.

“You don’t think kissing me was another way of torturing Chidi?”

Eleanor’s eyes widened at that, and he wasn’t sure if it was out of disbelief or realization. “No! I mean, Chidi doesn’t even know we’re doing this, so it can’t be. It’s not! Of course it’s not…” The brief moment of relief that went through Michael began to water down as her voice progressively softened. “It doesn’t make any sense. Although… It kinda makes a little bit of sense, maybe.”

_Oh fork, that stings._

Why did he even ask that?

His hand travelled to his chest to calm the bitter burn heavily weighing on it. She walked a couple of steps closer to him again, but he didn’t look up from her feet. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize...”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight.” He felt a small hand settling on his forearm and dared to meet her eyes. “But c’mon, it was just a kiss. It didn’t go anywhere and it doesn’t have to mean anything. We’ll just pretend it never happened, okay?”

_Holy fork, that stings even more._

He managed to plaster on a fake smile. “Of course. Nothing happened.” But based on the way her lips parted, he couldn’t sell the act, so he fixed his eyes on the floor again.

“Fork… Oh, fork me! It meant something, didn't it? You- Do you have feelings for me?” She couldn’t see him grimace at her words, but still cursed herself for them. “Shirt, how can I just go and ask you that? I’m sorry, I’m sorry I did all this. I should- Do you want me to go? I should probably go.”

“Wait.” He stretched out an arm when she made her way to the door and, after a moment of hesitation, met her eyes with his. “You don’t have to go. It’s fine, Eleanor.”

She stood still in place, silently staring at him, not daring to repeat the question even though he knew she wanted ―or, more precisely, needed― to finally know the answer.

Slowly, in a movement that was barely distinguishable, he nodded. “I do… But it’s okay.”

This time, his voice was the one that broke and her arms the ones that wrapped around his body.

Michael could not say _he_ was fine, he couldn’t say _he_ was okay. But… But it was okay. That unnamed space between them, their invaluable friendship, their incredibly special and almost undefinable bond. It was okay. To have Eleanor as a part of his existence was enough, even if he couldn’t take the place he wished he could have in hers.

Unfortunately, all the amazingly thrilling and exciting feelings he was experiencing up until a few minutes ago were gone, replaced by the most freezing vulnerability. He didn’t even let her take his clothes off, but he still felt stripped before her, as if a nagging lack of comfort drew him to cover up his own body. The problem was he was not sure _where_ to place his hands, or even if this kind of nudity was something that could be hidden after being, at last, discovered, in the most literal sense of the word.

But it was out there… After years of hiding it, now she knew.

All he could do was hope not to lose her over this.

He cleared his throat and stepped back. “You know, I’m gonna finish sobering us up now. I think we’ve had enough of this lack of inhibitions.”

The snap of his fingers only made him feel worse, his conscience now too aware of a situation that was quite close to overwhelm him.

Eleanor was covering her face with her own hands. “Do you also feel _more_ like shirt now, somehow?”

“Yep.”

“Great… You know, at least with hangovers, you feel like you’re being punished for doing the wrong thing. This is so… _clear_. Things shouldn’t be this clear after drinking. It’s wrong.”

“It feels wrong, but it was the right thing to do.”

“Yeah, but we spent most of our existences doing the wrong thing because it felt right! Damn it, stupid ethics…”

“I’m with you on that one. Stupid ethics…” _Stupid little voice that told me to stop._

They fell into a more awkward silence, both surely going through the memories of the evening. But after a few seconds, Michael couldn't deal with it anymore. “I could give us a hangover if you want. You’re right, it might make this easier-”

Eleanor grabbed his wrist when he raised an arm to snap his fingers again, so he straightened them to let her know he wasn’t going to do anything.

“Fine, I won’t. It was only a suggestion.”

He spent a moment silently staring into her eyes, wondering if she was also thinking about that kiss. When he caught her glancing down at his lips, he got his answer.

“We’re not about to-”

“No. We shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, that’s better...”

He dropped his body back on top of the desk and watched her as she rubbed her temples. His eyes moved away from her the moment she faced him.

“Dude, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“What use did it have to tell you? I would’ve been happy taking this to Retirement.”

“But why?! And why on Earth would you drive me towards Chidi, time after time, reboot after reboot, and then in Australia and then in Phoenix and… I just- why?”

He shrugged. The answer was more complicated than it seemed, and he wasn’t even sure he had figured out all the motivations behind that pattern. But it made sense, so he just kept doing it.

“You guys are good for each other. You bring out the best in each other…”

“We do that, too.”

She moved closer to him and he sighed, looking away. “It’s not that simple.”

“I think it’s more simple than you wanna believe.”

“I know… you love him. And that’s fine. Even though now I’m also angry at him, for leaving you. And I think he’s insane for doing that. I’m sorry, it’s not fair of me to say that. And I’m actually supposed to be comforting you now, so can we drop this?”

She shook her head at him. “You should’ve told me, man.”

“When was the right time to tell you? When I had barely teamed up with you? When you didn’t have any memory of me? When you were in a relationship?”

“Damn it, since then?” He cursed himself for unintentionally oversharing and nodded, following with his eyes the hand that traced the length of his arm. “Basically anytime, dude... When we became friends and hung out together all the time, when we spent like three days on our own on Earth… I was telling you the truth earlier, you know? You should’ve shown me our memories, too. God, you’re such a selfless idiot!” The words were harsh but her tone was soft, and so were the fingers on his wrist. “We could’ve gone on a date or something, we could’ve given ourselves a shot… But now, with the experiment and the Chidi thing and the Simone thing and-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I’m not explaining, I’m _com_ plaining…”

He snorted and looked up at her. Eleanor smiled when he set eyes on her.

How could he possibly want anything more than the chance of looking at that smile for the rest of eternity?

“I’m sorry, Michael, for pushing you to say this… For doing all- all _that_.”

“I’m sorry for getting so into ‘all that’. It was wrong.”

Her eyes narrowed and she scoffed at him. “You kiddin’? That’s gotta be one of the best kisses I’ve ever had. And I’ve kissed a _lot_ of people…”

He felt himself blush at her words and stayed silent. He risked too much if he dared to speak.

“But now I should stop thinking about that, especially since we’re in-”

She moved a finger back and forth between them, signaling the way they were mirroring their earlier positions, the ones in which this whole thing had started.

“Yeah- that’s-”

“The same- Yeah…”

Eleanor nodded, her smile slowly faltering before she let out a bitter laugh. “Damn it, Michael. I wish- Nevermind…”

“What?”

“Nothing. I was about to say something really crabby. I better shut up.”

His hand hovered near her shoulder, wanting to touch her hair before he decided against it. “You can say it if you need to get it out there. I won’t judge you.”

“You have a file with my entire life laid out on it. You better not judge me…”

He laughed and she clicked her tongue in frustration, blinking wetness away from her eyes. “I wish- It’s just that… I’m so forking angry at him right now, and I don’t know what to do with that anger.” Her hands settled on his shoulders before dropping to his chest, and Michael realized he would never get tired of the feeling of her fingers on his body. “And then there’s you… The one who’s always been there for me, that never let me down, that never left me on my own, the one that never stopped supporting me. And I just wish… I really wish you had told me this sooner, man.”

Her voice came close to breaking and she crushed him with a hug, burying her face in the crook of his neck and squeezing his body with almost inhuman strength.

There was something positively supernatural about Eleanor Shellstrop’s existence.

“Are we still friends?” Michael had no control over the trembling note his voice took.

She tensed, in a barely perceptible way, in his arms, but didn’t move away from him. “What?”

“I don’t-” He cleared his throat to drain his words of that clogging atmosphere, to let out some of the most terrifying thoughts that now worried him, slowly moved his hands to hold her back, and took the chance to rub his cheek against her hair. The pain building inside of him leaked out in the shape of tears he could not keep from falling. “I don’t need anything more than this. I never needed anything else than what we already had. And I would like to say I would understand if you told me we can’t be friends anymore because of this, but the truth is I’m scared of losing you.”

His fears only increased when she abruptly let him go, making his breathing stop for a millisecond, but Eleanor stared at him so softly he felt himself relax, and leaned into one of her hands when she reached out to wipe his face with her fingers.

“You’re _never_ going to lose me, Michael. This thing we have, this weird, pretty charged and _very_ intense friendship, it goes both ways, man… We’re always gonna be here for each other. I’m right here, remember that? I’m always going to be here.”

He nodded, recalling the first promise she had ever made him, filled with more honesty than he could have possibly expected from her, and closed his eyes when her forehead clashed against his.

“Look, Chidi might be my boyfriend, my partner in this afterlife. But dude, you’re my soulmate. Ever since we became friends, I’ve felt like there’s a part of me that belongs to you, like we have some sort of weird sync or some shirt like that. I don’t know how to explain it, but-”

“Like we’re orbiting one another, in perfect harmony? Like ‘binary stars’?”

She pulled back with wide eyes, keeping her arms on his shoulders. “Exactly… How did you- Where did that come from? Because it doesn’t seem like you came up with it on the spot.”

“Some bullshirt I told Jason on the second attempt. One that, much like the Joey and Rachel thing, it came back to bite me in the ash…”

They laughed at that before settling in a comfortable silence, that Eleanor broke after giving him a sad, somewhat teary smile.

“They loved each other too much to be a couple…” She raised a hand to stroke his cheek and kept it there. “I do love you, buddy. I love you so much.”

He took a deep, shaky breath and met her hand with one of his own, lacing their fingers together. Michael pressed a lingering kiss on her knuckles and looked down at the space between them, not daring to meet her eyes to say it.

“And I love you, Eleanor.”

A weight lifted from his back when the words left him. It might not have been the same kind of love, but it was still the most intense emotion he had ever given and received from any other being. He thought of all his friends and realized he had so much more than he had ever dreamed of, that he had experienced more beautiful and wonderful things in the past few years than in all his previous eons of hellish existence.

And what had happened tonight had been incredible, despite it all.

He glanced at her lips, knowing he would at least cherish the memory for the rest of time, and cleared his throat before speaking. “You should probably go... And rest. It’s getting late.”

Eleanor mirrored the movement of his eyes and nodded. She probably understood the truth hidden beneath his words: as much as he loved her, as much as he wanted to be by her side while she was in pain, now he needed to be alone. At least for a moment. 

“Night, Michael…” With their hands still tangled on the side of his face, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Damn, it’s gonna be hard to resist that from now on!”

“I agree. But we know what’s right here… Good night, Eleanor.”

Would it only make things harder, if Michael himself reached out for one last kiss?

He had the feeling it would.

Since his hand was still holding on to hers, his arm stretched out towards her when she walked away, and felt her squeeze his fingers before letting him go. 

She didn’t turn his back on him until the door was open and she disappeared behind it.

Maybe it was not her that he copied, but simply her happiness what he sought with his actions. Perhaps she saw herself in him just as much as he did in her, and they were destined to find their paths together. As far as he was concerned, Michael didn’t have a soul, but he had never felt so perpetually bound to someone as he did now.

**Author's Note:**

> I apply Katoska’s headcanon that Eleanor was the one who called the ants into the office because damn, I completely believe that now!
> 
> There might be a sequel placed around TTDS, but I'm not sure yet. Life is crazy for me right now and I don't have a lot of time to write. When I regain the inpiration and motivation for it, and manage to make some time, I'll continue with Synesthesia, but for now I don't know when I'll be able to post something again.


End file.
